She Don't Love You
by purplepagoda
Summary: After the cross over event with NCIS:LA- He is convinced that there is still a chance for them. She isn't buying what he is selling. How did they get to where they are now?
1. Chapter 1

_2010_—_She rolls onto her side to look at the alarm clock resting on her bedside stand. She sighs knowing that she has nowhere to be today. She sits up in bed with her back resting against the headboard. She flips on the lamp, and looks around the room. Just yesterday… her mind wanders. _

_ Boxes filled this room. An unsettling reminder of what was. Packed suitcases in the hallway. Part of her feels that she is free of the albatross that has been hanging around her neck for so long. A partner with a mistress. She sighs, if only it were that simple. It wouldn't be such a hard pill to swallow if his mistress were another woman, she scoffs, hell, even it was a man. Damn fly boy! _

_ She pulls the wedding bands off her finger, and gently places them next to the alarm clock. As the minutes pass it is just a reminder of all the time she has wasted. Time wasted chasing someone who was always running. The irony of it all is that the date of their divorce fell on their anniversary. _

_ She soon finds herself in the kitchen fumbling for something in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Her hand lands on a piece of paper. She settles herself on the kitchen island. As her feet dangle over the sides she reads the note. _

_Sarah,_

_I am sorry for all of the things that I never was. I am sorry for all of the things we wanted that never came to fruition. Don't undo yourself for something out of your control. _

_Always Yours,_

_Harm_

_P.S. I took what you are looking for with me._

_ For a moment she wonders which thing he is talking about. She makes herself a cup of coffee, and heads to the spare bedroom. She hesitates outside the door, so tired of the sinking, empty feeling inside of her. She exhales, and takes a sip of coffee. She turns the knob, and pushes the door open. Instead of a room with four bare walls, and no furniture she finds desk centered against the opposite wall, and all of her credentials hanging on the wall._

* * *

Present Day-

She pulls her black SUV into her garage, closing the door behind her. The engine is off, and she sits in silence for several moments before she reaches for the door handle. Just as she reaches for the door her phone rings. She presses it to her ear.

"Don't," she insists, just above a whisper.

"How do you even know what I am going to say?"

"Let old flames die in the past," she warns.

"I miss you."

"Don't give me that, fly boy. We are divorced," she reminds him.

"You were the one who wanted that. You called it a sham of a marriage. You decided that it was never going to work, because you couldn't have what you wanted the most. You gave up. That wasn't me."

She scoffs, "It takes two people to make a marriage work, and you were never around."

He can hear the pain in her voice, "I'm an ass. What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything. I don't want to reconnect. I am glad you are doing well, but I have moved on. You should too."

"You're in bed with the CIA, and…"

She cuts him off, "You walked away, and never looked back. You don't get to judge me, or any of my life choices," she feels her voice begin to grow louder.

"Mac…"

"Save it for someone else."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Sorry, for what?"

"Every bit of it. All of the things that I never was, and never could be."

She feels as if someone is looking at her. She glances up, and finds someone standing in the doorway that leads to the house. She smiles, and hangs up the phone without another thought. She blocks the number, and climbs out of her car.

"Work?" A questioning voice asks, "I can go back inside."

"It was just someone trying to sell me something," she smiles, "And I'm not buying."

* * *

He hangs up the phone, and his mind begins to wander. How could he ever have been so stupid? Why did he let her talk him into giving up? He shakes it off, and reminds himself how he had nearly lost her, permanently.

* * *

_2009—_

_He's walks into their home, and finds it uncharacteristically dark, and quiet. It has been three months since he's seen her. She assured him that she would be perfectly fine. The past few years had been full of ups, and downs for them. Promotions, countless rounds of failed fertility treatments. Two failed adoptions. One successful adoption ending in heartbreak. _

_ He finds her lying in bed, despite the fact that it is nearly 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The room reeks of alcohol. He flips on the light, and finds it empty, other than empty bottles of alcohol. When he finally finds her he nearly wishes that he didn't. He pulls her back inside. He pulls her back off the ledge and begins the painful process of detox with her. _

_ Somewhere around day three when he is watching her writhe in pain he knows that he is the problem. She stares at him, as he sits next to her._

"_We can't do this anymore. It's killing me. I want a divorce."_

"_Okay."_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: The title is based on a song of the same name by Eric Paslay_

* * *

As he lies in bed that night he finds his mind wandering from the book that he is reading. For a moment he thinks about how hard he pushed her, and how he walked away from her when she needed him most. He always goes back to the day he found her in a place where she was ready to end it all. Their marriage had nearly killed her. Her words sting, but as he marks the page in his book he ponders finally letting her go.

* * *

_2010- _

_ One afternoon she finds herself entering the office of Clayton Webb. He looks up at her with an expression she can't quite analyze._

"_Close the door," he whispers softly._

_She dutifully closes the door. She takes a seat across the desk from him. _

"_You have been our Marine liaison for a while now."_

_She furrows her brow, "What is this about?"_

"_It is my duty to inform you that you temporarily have to come out of the field."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_Have you been seeing someone lately?"_

"_Most days I am working twelve to fifteen hours a day. When would I have time for that? I have only been divorced for…"_

"_Three months," he recounts._

"_What is this about?"_

"_Have you been feeling okay?"_

"_As far as I know," she begins to internally question herself._

"_You know that every year we have certain testing to ensure that we still qualify for our positions."_

"_Is this about the vision thing?"_

"_It is not. Your marksmanship is impeccable, we are not concerned about whether or not you need corrective lenses."_

"_Clayton, I am having a hard time following what it is that you are trying to tell me."_

"_You did not pass part of your physical."_

"_My physical? I don't understand."_

"_Can I ask you a personal question?"_

"_Better than anyone I know."_

"_How fond was your farewell with Rabb?"_

_She furrows her brow, "What?! I don't understand the relevance."_

_He hands her an envelope. "You are going to leave this sealed, until you get home. I am going to escort you home. You are going to take a few days of paid leave, and then when you return you will be able to return to any duty that is not in the field. Please don't say anything. We can discuss this when you get home."_

* * *

_When she arrives home Clayton instructs her to have a seat. She takes a seat at her dining room table, and folds her arms across her chest. _

"_Clayton, can you please just tell me what the hell is going on?"_

_He once again hands her the envelope. "You lab work was not as exemplary as you might hope."_

_She hastily opens the envelope, "You are taking me out of the field because of my lab work?"_

_She unfolds the paperwork. "I am not seeing anything outside of normal limits." _

"_Check the last page."_

_She flips furiously to the last page. She furrows her brow, and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. _

"_There is no way that this can possibly be correct."_

"_The lab ran it multiple times."_

"_Maybe the sample got mixed up," she suggests._

"_Every other patient that was examined that day was male, so if that is the case we have a much bigger problem. Someone has bought a sample to pass lab testing."  
"Clayton… there just isn't anyway this is accurate. It is impossible. I am practically a dinosaur, and…"_

_He reaches across the table, and takes her hand. He gently squeezes it, in a reassuring fashion. _

"_You are on mandatory 3 day paid leave."_

"_That is unnecessary."_

"_You have plenty of time to reflect, review, and confirm, or deny these results."_

"_Do you have any idea how long…" she begins._

_He cuts her off, again. "I think you forget that a lot of people owe me favors."_

"_Why would you waste a favor on me?" She queries._

"_You have been a friend, and I can't say that about most."_

_He slips a business sized card out of his pocket. He slides it across the table to her._

"_You can follow up on your lab results tomorrow."_

* * *

Present Day—

She stands in front of her kitchen island quietly packing lunch. She carefully places each hand selected item into the lunch box with tender care. She zips the plain, unassuming lunch box, and tucks it into the fridge. She gently lifts herself onto the counter, and begins eating a container of yogurt. She is pajama clad, and her house is unnaturally quiet at 9:30. She hears the hum of the ceiling fan in the next room. She has learned to appreciate the quiet moments in her life, which she had previously filled with activities as a younger individual to keep her mind from wandering.

Upstairs she brushes her teeth, and thoroughly flosses. She flips off lights, and climbs into her bed at 10:00 PM on the dot. She doesn't put on a lamp, or reach for a book. She exhales, says a silent prayer, and tucks the covers up to her chin.


	3. Chapter 3

_ 2010_

_ She sits inside of her garage bay, with the door down. The engine of her car is off, as is her seat belt. Her keys rest in her lap. She holds tightly to the steering wheel as she hyperventilates. The phone that is neatly tucked into her cup holder begins to vibrate. It jars her for a brief second back to reality. She presses the phone to her ear. The call connects, but she says nothing._

"_Sarah?"_

_No response. On the other end Clayton can hear her heavy, labored breathing._

"_Mac I have an assignment for you," he begins, knowing this will at least catch her attention, "I need you to focus on the sound of my voice. Take a nice deep breath. Are you at home?"_

_No response._

"_Maybe you are in your car. I remember the last time that I was in your car you had that lavender air freshener. Remember, it was so calming that I nearly fell asleep half way to our restaurant for lunch? Have you eaten yet today? I know that it is only 9:30, but Marines do like to stay on schedule. I can have breakfast delivered to you."_

_Finally words spring from her lips, "I am nearly half a century old!"_

_"Not quite."_

_"Close enough!"_

"_It's okay," he reassures her._

"_Nope! Not okay…" _

_ Fifteen minutes later he climbs inside the car beside her. Every part of her body remains perfectly still except for her diaphragm. He gently closes the door as he situates himself into the passenger's seat._

"_Marine, I need a sit-rep," he demands._

"_The lab testing was correct."_

"_I know."_

"_Do you know how old I am?"_

"_Take a breath," Clayton advises._

"_I am having a really hard time with this," she finally exhales. She sits in the driver's seat with her body turned toward him. _

_He scoots closer to her, until he has awkwardly enveloped her in a hug over the console between them. His entire life he has been an actor. From middle school drama school all the way to the CIA he has been running from himself. He wears a mask for those around him to see. On the inside it feels as if it is crafted of the densest concrete. As he inhales the scent of coconut from her conditioner he silently, motionlessly casts the mask aside. His lips linger near her ear._

_ She can feel his breath against her ear. For a second her fear dissipates. She inhales as the scent of his overpriced cologne wafts in the air between them. Her heartbeat begins to slow. Instead of being held rigidly in his arms she allows the tension to drain from her body. She wraps her arms around him, as if he is the only thing keeping her from the brink. As she exhales she reminds herself that he is. _

"_I've got your six," the simple phrase tumbles from his lips. He knows that his past discretions have made her question the truth in this statement. "Sarah," he whispers, "Let me prove it."_

_ Their embrace ends, and he wonders how long they will allow the silence to fill the space between them. There are dark, heavy circles around her eyes. For the first time he realizes that she isn't wearing any make-up. Her eye lids are puffy from all the tears she has shed. Her cheeks are a bright rosy red. Largely dilated pupils remind him how a woman who has faced some grave situations is currently filled with fear. He presents her with a handkerchief. She silently accepts, and dabs the tears from her face._

"_It's the picture that we have in our heads that does the most detriment." _

"_The fenced in backyard, and the two car garage? Growing old together, and sitting on your front patio sipping lemonade. Someone who stays home for carpool, and bakes chocolate chip cookies. Is that what you were looking for when you came out here, Sarah?"_

"_I am not sure that you know how hard I worked to try to make the picture."_

"_It almost killed you. I know that."_

"_Have I ever told you the reason that I decided to move across the country? The reason we didn't make a trans-continental move?"_

"_I only have assumptions.__"_

"_For the picture. For some reason my biological clock started hanging around my neck like an albatross. By the time the move came up I had already undergone fertility treatment. Harm agreed to be the other half of the genetic material, but when those two pink lines appeared our dynamic totally shifted. He admitted that he wanted more, and so did I."_

"_I suspected something along those lines. When nothing came to fruition I was afraid to ask."_

"_It was a placental abruption at fifteen weeks."  
_

* * *

It's nearly 0530 when she hears footsteps glide across the threshold of the master bedroom. She taps her alarm clock seconds before it goes off. She rolls onto her side, and taps on the lamp on her bedside stand. She glances up at a familiar figure.

"Did you honestly think that you could sneak in here without waking me up?"

"After all of these years I still hold out hope," he grins.

"You're hopeless," she teases.

"It is Saturday," he reminds her.

"We have…"

He cuts off her hard-wired Marine brain who is already thinking about the amount of minutes left before she insists they pull out of the garage or be shamefully late. "Sarah, we have nothing planned. There is nothing on the itinerary today. This is our free weekend. A wise little owl told us to practice self-care. We are role models, you know."

"What are your expectations of this ridiculous experiment?"

"I will rub your feet, and we will blissfully fall asleep for the next hour until we are rudely awakened by Boyd's incessant barking from the back yard regarding the squirrel the has yet to capture in the tree that is approximately forty inches off the ground."

"Everyone has their handicap."

"We have to pretend to sleep, at the very least," he suggests.

She rolls her eyes, and shuts off her lamp. He climbs in bed next to her. He doesn't try to pull any shenanigans. He lets her rest her socked feet against his leg. Their minds wander.

She yawns, "I think I'm still tired," in defeat.

Over an hour later not even the neighborhood squirrel is scurrying about. All creatures, human, and otherwise are tucked in their perspective beds. Some of them even drool on their fluffy, expensive king-sized pillows.


	4. Chapter 4

_2010_

_ She doesn't elaborate. He scrutinizes her facial expression, and body language, and realizes that it is because she can't. The pain is etched across her entire body. He silently slips his hand around hers, and gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The seconds tick by his typical anxiety doesn't take over. Their history involves a legitimate compassion, and caring towards her. He sits with her in the pain. He lets it stew, and simmer, as she collects her thoughts._

"_It didn't get any easier from there," she adds._

"_I'm sorry," is all Clayton can muster. _

_The tears gather at the brink, just begging to fall from her eyes. The lump in her throat makes it hard to swallow. Her mouth feels like coarse grain sandpaper. _

"_Then there was Cameron. No marriage could survive that. Harm and I were built for competition. No one wins anything when you both lose what matters most to you. We both lost it, and we pushed each other away. I relapsed, and…"_

"_You don't have to justify anything to me," he reminds her, gently._

"_I just don't know that I am emotionally prepared to face any of it again. It's as if I can drive past the arena, but I can't go inside. You know? I see other people on the street with their families, and I can think 'Oh, wouldn't that be nice,' but I can't actually see myself going through any of it again."_

"_We both know that I am the last person on the planet to give anyone advice about this. So, I won't. I am here for you. I will always be here for you, no matter what, Sarah."_

"_I'm not so certain that you know what that entails."_

"_I will park a tent in the backyard if I need to. I will make sure that all weapons that may be utilized for lethal means, or a spiral of destruction are secured, or removed. I know that I have not always done right by you in the past."_

* * *

She wakes up feeling disoriented, as if she has been asleep for days. She opens her eyes, and finds her bed empty. She furrows her brow, and sits up in bed. She wipes the drool from her face. She glances at the clock that screams 7:39. For a brief moment she considers that the apocalypse may have begun. She paces to the bathroom to pee. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Some of her hair is slicked to her forehead with sweat, while other sections of hair point in at least five separate directions. She finds the silence eerie while she washes her hands. She doesn't hear the dog running around outside, or barking from the kitchen to be fed.

As she pads down the hallway towards the stairs she finds each room void of any human beings. She descends the stairs, to the first level. The couch is utterly empty. Cable news has not yet been turned on, and her husband isn't ranting about the inaccurate reporting of events. In fact not a single screen in the home is turned on. When she arrives at the kitchen she finds her husband sitting on a bar-stool sipping a cup of coffee, perusing _People_ magazine. She finds a second cup of coffee sitting next to him. He points, and she joins him while eyeing him suspiciously.

"Clay, did I miss something? It's dead quiet. Why?"

He places the magazine on the counter, and turns towards her. He smiles, and plants a kiss on her lips. She startles and nearly falls backwards off her chair.

"Are you okay?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Who are you, and what is going on here?"

"We are taking a day of self-care," Clayton reminds her.

"Are you messing with me right now? Did you change the clock? What else did you do? This seems like a pretty elaborate charade."

"It isn't a charade. You look well rested."

She scowls as she drinks her perfect cup of coffee.

"I am going to call and have the National Guard, as soon as I finish this cup of coffee."

"Firstly there is no disaster here, Sarah. Secondly, you can't call anyone."

Her nose scrunches, as other parts of her face contort, "What do you mean, I can't call anyone?"

"All electronic devices have been hidden. There isn't even a remote for the TV. I did find a radio in the garage."

"My phone was lying next to the bed."

"The progeny even removed the secret back up phones. We are tech free today."

"Where is the ringleader behind this?"

"In your she-shed turned progeny fortress."

"I want to point out that I would like a new trial. The judge in my case was biased, and I did not have adequate representation."

"Boyd did object a handful of times."

She shakes her head, "The venue was less than ideal. For the record he was barking at a squirrel out the window."

"I took his objections into considerations. There was a strong argument based on the fact that you never used the she-shed, if you recall."

She rolls her eyes. He grins from ear to ear. "I do have pretty strong intel that there is a potential for bribery. I have it from an informant of mine that cinnamon rolls are the currency which will be effective."

"Cinnamon rolls in exchange for what?"

"Your phone."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists," Sarah plays along.

"I heard the punishment is a second tech-free day."


	5. Chapter 5

_2010_

_ It is Saturday, a day in which normal human beings refrain from typical daily rituals. Her day is entirely free without a single plan. Her Marine conditioned body clock urges her that it is time to awaken. She shifts positions in bed, and refuses to rise. She feels utterly exhausted, and a 0430 wake time is not in her plans. Her bladder issues a red alert. She groans as she rolls out of the bed, and slinks to the bathroom. _

_ When she exits the bathroom she realizes that she is awake, and there is no returning to sleep. She finds her way to the kitchen, and longingly stares at her coffee pot. Seconds after she arrives at the counter it begins to percolate. She loudly groans as the aroma of coffee fills the room. _

"_Some of us sleep past 4:30, you know," a familiar voice calls from the living room. _

_ She spins around, and suddenly remembers that she has a guest sleeping on her couch. She exits the kitchen, and makes her way to the couch. _

"_I'm sorry. I will go back upstairs. I didn't mean to wake you."_

_Clayton shifts beneath the blanket. He sits up, and pats the cushion next to him. She reluctantly takes a seat next to him. Every fiber of her being feels uncomfortable, and not an ounce of it has to do with Clayton. He turns towards her. _

"_When are you going to stop torturing yourself?" _

"_It seems as if I am particularly adept at it."_

"_Unplug the coffee maker. We both know that you are not going to drink it. I end up drinking the entire pot of insanely strong coffee because I feel guilty."_

"_If I can't drink it I can at least smell it."_

"_Maybe you should just drink a cup," he suggests._

_She shakes her head, and squirms in her seat, as if she is physically repulsed by the idea. _

"_I am going to go back to bed," she insists, rising from her seat on the couch._

"_Good luck."_

_She spins around, "The couch is no place for sleeping."_

_He stares at her, and his gaze shifts before he can stop it. In a second she catches him looking at her shirt as it clings to her. He can't look away quick enough. _

_She exhales, "I can't avoid this much longer, can I?"_

"_I understand your caution, but have you considered at what point your caution begins to shift into some level of excitement?"  
_

_"Year eighteen?"_

"_Sarah!"_

"_Can we have this conversation some other time? I am exhausted."_

"_I don't think that your exhaustion is going anywhere anytime soon. Between the insomnia, and the internal clock, and the fact that you are soon going to have a totally disruptive force enter your life, I do not see the sleep situation improving any time soon."_

"_I'm going back to bed," she responds._

"_Suit yourself__," he hangs his head accepting her sheer, stupid determination._

_He hears her stop after the first step._

"_You should come, too."_

_He furrows his brow. Time, after time she has made it perfectly clear that she has zero interest in re-cultivating any kind of relationship with him. Day after day, he has made it perfectly obvious that he intends to repay, in full, the heartache that he has bestowed upon her. He shifts so he can see her. He finds that she is standing on the step, as if she is waiting on him, expectantly. Her facial expression softens. Her glance shifts from his face to the bubble between them._

"_It will keep the resident in my uterus from tap dancing on my bladder."_

_He tilts his head, uncertain of how to respond._

"_Please," she adds in an uncharacteristically quiet tone._

_ He doesn't think twice, or question her motives. He rises from the couch, and follows her up the flight of stairs into her room. She climbs into bed without a word. He knows how physically, and emotionally exhausted she is. He climbs underneath the covers beside her, as he has done many times, in much different circumstances. The depth of her trust in him does not elude him. He allows instinct to take over. He scoots close to her, and carefully wraps his arms around her. _

_ For the first time in months uncertainty takes a back seat, and she begins to feel safe. She doesn't even flinch as his hand comes to rest on her swollen abdomen. The tiny dancer suddenly comes to a rest as Clayton says, "Get some rest, Sarah."_

* * *

"Sarah?" A familiar voice jolts her back to reality.

She looks up from her spot on the couch, and finds her husband calling her name. Her legs are tucked under her as she sips her cup of coffee.

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear me?" He questions with raised eyebrows.

"I was somewhere else," admittedly.

"What would you like to do for the day?"

"Maybe nothing is exactly what we should do. How long has it been since we did nothing?"

He looks at her with a sparkle in his eyes. A devilish smile crawls across his face."I remember the last time we did nothing. Do you?"

She searches the recesses of her mind. She comes up empty handed.

"It was a rainy evening about five years ago," he reminds her.

She chuckles, "Oh, yes. How could I forget?"

"You know it might be a good time to have serious discussion while we have a moment to ourselves."

"Is this where you tell me that you are jetting off halfway across the world, Clay?"

He shakes his head, "How long has it been since I set off halfway across the world?"

"As I seem to recall it was shortly after that rainy evening five years ago," she recounts.

"We do need to have a conversation, but not about work."

She gently places her coffee mug on a coaster that is strategically situated on the coffee table in front of her.

"I'm listening."

"How was your chat with Rabb?" He cuts straight to the punch.

"There wasn't much of a conversation. He wanted to relight old flames, and I made it very clear to him that I wasn't interested. I very quickly shot flyboy down."

"At what point are you going to have a serious conversation with him?"

She shrugs, "In another ten years or so."

"We both agreed that we would initiate the conversation when the time was right. I have given you a lot of latitude."

"It is not your conversation to have," she jabs.

"You're right, it isn't. It is your decision, and I have always respected that. I just think at some point you owe everyone a healthy dose of the truth."

"Why are you so insistent on this? What about the utter upheaval this is bound to bring to our family?"

"Why is it that this is the only disagreement that we can never seem to resolve?" Clayton queries.

"We have fundamental differences in opinions on the matter."

"Why is that?" Clayton pushes.

"I really don't want to have this conversation right now," she retreats.

"You never want to have this conversation. If you think my protective instinct of our family is any less than yours is you are dead wrong, Sarah. I just think that Rabb deserves the truth."

"What makes you believe that he deserves anything?"

"Wouldn't you want to know? Wouldn't you want to know that you are a parent? Don't you think that you might want to know that you have offspring wandering around this world somewhere?"

"A sperm donation does not equate to a parent," the vein in her forehead pulsates. She points to herself, and then to him, "We are the parents."


	6. Chapter 6

_He sits in silence on her couch as she struggles with her jacket. She sighs in defeat, and tosses it onto the floor in anger. He glances at his watch. Without a word he heads into the hall, and opens the closet. He removes one of his jackets, and returns to the entry way. He silently hands it to her. _

"_Don't say it," she growls. _

"_I didn't say anything." _

"_I'm sorry, I can't do this."_

"_Okay," he answers understandingly._

"_Okay? That is it? The first time you have managed to get me out of this house for anything than the call of duty in months, and you are going to give up so easily?"_

"_Going out on the town is really not the important thing here."_

"_What are we doing here?" She tosses out with a sharp edge._

"_I am just trying to be a decent human being," he answers. _

"_I really don't deserve any of this," she begins to retreat._

"_What is it that you have done in your life that is so horrendous that makes you believe that you are not worthy of having the things that you want? Nothing that I know of."_

"_There is plenty," she argues._

"_You are only human."_

_She falls silent._

"_Talk to me," Clayton implores._

"_I wake every single day, and I am just waiting for the tragedy."_

"_Do you know what makes something a tragedy?" He questions._

_She shrugs, clearly emotionally drained, "Enlighten me."_

"_What is written in the last chapter?"_

_She runs her fingers through her hair, "What is wrong with me?" Her voice cracks._

"_Nothing," he reassures her. _

"_I should be the happiest person on the entire planet. I have done absolutely everything in my power to hide this from everyone, but you. Why? To what end?"_

"_I think that past events have made you reject any hint of vulnerability."_

"_Who am I kidding here? I am six and a half months pregnant. I am only playing a fool if I think that people haven't noticed. Nothing that I own fits appropriately. I know that what you said to me the other day is right. At some point I have to decide that this should be celebrated, not dreaded."_

"_Sarah, I know how much you have wanted this. I also realizes how incredibly terrifying all of this is to you. I will be the first to admit that things have not gone according to plan in the past. So far absolutely everything is going according to plan. Everything is going exactly as it is supposed to. You are doing her a disservice if you don't begin to embrace this."_

_As he watches her facial expression he realizes that he has revealed too much. He doesn't even attempt to save face._

"_What did you just say?"_

"_I think that you heard me."_

"_I think that I elected not to learn some details."_

"_I recall. I was there when you told the OB/GYN that you did not want any genetic testing, nor did you want to find out the gender. You were adamant. I'm sorry. I know that we agreed that I am here only as a moral support, but dammit I was a little excited after getting to see the little critter at your appointment."_

"_I have been adamant about a lot of things in my life."_

"_I am sorry… just erase what I said from your memory."_

"_I have been wrong about a lot of things, too. Like you, for example."_

_He arches an eyebrow, "I am not the lowest level scum of the Earth that you once determined me to be?"_

"_You have changed."_

"_I don't think that you know how deeply I regret what I did to you."_

_She decides to lay it all on the line. "How badly do you want this?"_

"_I…" he stammers, caught off guard by her question._

"_I know I am a less than ideal catch. I am an alcoholic divorcee, who is pregnant with my ex-husband's baby."_

_He grins, "What are you saying?"_

"_I was struggling, and you supported me expecting absolutely nothing in return. I know part of it was some desire to offer reparation to me. It really has exceeded that. The more time I spend with you the more I realize…" she trails off._

* * *

She makes eye contact with her husband. Despite the fact that her cheeks are burning with anger, she knows that he is right. In their years of wedded bliss they have grown so much that they are nearly unrecognizable from the people that they once were. She exhales, as he gently squeezes her hand.

"I know that you are right. I am sorry for reacting the way that I did. We cannot live a utopian life that is based at least in part on the omission of one very large truth, and expect that it will not begin to crumble down around us at some point. My own selfish desires, and fears are what have motivated me to keep it a secret for all of these years. I also don't want to have to pick up the pieces of shattered hearts when the truth comes out. I… will need you support."

"You don't have to ask."

"I am still fairly certain that someone had plastic surgery to look like Clayton Webb, but…"

He quiets her with a kiss. When their sweet moment is over she vacates her seat on the couch.

"I should not delay any longer. If I do I will chicken out."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"I think I need to do this one solo."

He nods subtly as she leaves the room.


	7. Chapter 7

She enters the she shed, and finds a pile of hooligans lounging on a plush rug, playing a rousing game of "Go-Fish". With a subtle head nod the population of the she-shed decreases. She opts for a seat on the couch, rather than the floor. She finds that she is quickly joined on the couch. Mac sits on the middle cushion. She massages the back of her hand with her thumb.

"What's wrong?" Her daughter stares back at her with bright blue eyes.

"We need to talk."

"Now?"

"Where do I start?"

"At the beginning," blue eyes suggests.

She nods, "Then I guess we should talk about the night that you were born."

* * *

_The clock on the wall ticks by at a snail's pace. Waiting has never been one of Mac's strengths, her irritation grows faster than her patience. As the minutes tick by the pain only grows. Clayton sits by her side, as she lies in the hospital bed. He can see the anxiety from her facial expression to her body language. _

"_Ice chips?" He questions, hoping she doesn't chuck the cup at him._

"_Enough with the damn ice chips, Clay!"_

"_Do you want to go for a walk?"_

"_Fine! __I have to do something," she agrees._

_He glances at his watch. It tells him that they have only been in the hospital room one hour and forty seven minutes. He isn't certain how long this will take, but he knows that arriving to the hospital six days prior to schedule has thrown the Colonel into a tail-spin. After a few laps in the halls a nurse chases them back into the room, and announces that it is time to evaluate the progress being made._

_ As Clayton helps Sarah back into bed he wonders how many more hours of torture they will endure before her daughter finally arrives and alleviates some fears. _

"_I am going to grab the attending," the nurse announces._

_Sarah's heart skips a beat, "Is everything alright?"_

"_Everything is moving along perfectly."_

_The nurse disappears from the room only for seconds. She reappears with a physician who looks as if he has just graduated middle school. Neither Clayton, nor Sarah hear the introductions. They look at each other in confusion as another nurse joins the room. The doctor begins to suit up, and the nurses begin to disassemble the bed._

"_Have I missed something?" Mac queries._

_The nurse grins, "I am sorry. I tend to be so task oriented. I forget not everyone is on the same page. You are at ten centimeters, and fully effaced."_

"_She was at three two hours ago," Clayton responds._

"_Apparently this little one is not going to wait any longer," the nurse admits._

_The hands on the clock barely move before the doctor is lifting a brand new baby girl onto Sarah's chest. The newborn howls like a werewolf searching for prey. The wearied look on her face disappears._

"_Hi, there," she greets the little girl. The newborn stops crying, and begins searching for the source of her mother's voice. _

_The stages of labor continue, but Mac's gaze remains fixed on her daughter. She eyes Clayton as a nurse approaches. He brushes hair from Sarah's forehead._

"_We will just be over there," he points at a corner of the room as the nurse delicately lifts the baby from her chest._

_Her attention is redirected. _

"_We are going to deliver the placenta now," the nurse instructs her, "I need one more good push."_

_The physician once again plays the job of catcher. _

"_Amy I need your assistance," he announces as he turns the placenta over to ensure that it is intact. _

_The nurse immediately assesses the situation, and grabs an unused sterile drape that is most proximal to her. _

_ Sarah watches in total confusion as the nurse places a second newborn onto her chest. After a few seconds of vigorous stimulation to the baby's back a loud cry interrupts the hubbub in the room. _

"_I thought that you said something about placenta," Mac's voice quivers._

"_Did you know that it is possible for a baby to be born inside the placenta?"_

"_No. I didn't know that there were two of them."_

* * *

Mac sits in between two identical girls. They stare back at her with piercing blue eyes. The twin on her left grins.

"Why are you smiling?"

"We already know this."

Sarah furrows her brow, "You do?"

"We were looking at pictures one day with dad, and we asked why there weren't any pictures of us in matching outfits," the eldest explains.

"I was the bonus baby," Harper smiles.

"Is that what you call yourself?" Piper rolls her eyes.

"That is just the beginning, really. I appreciate that the two of you are mature for your ages, but what I need to tell you might be a little bit difficult to process."

She studies the two girls sitting next to her. They are shooting each other looks. She can tell that they are having an entire conversation with non-verbals.

"Girls! We have discussed this. It is rude to use the twin connection when people are trying to have serious conversations with you."

"I think that this is where we come clean with you," Harper begins.

Mac expects Piper to lead the conversation, as she is the dominant of the pair.

"Last year when you went to the defense conference in Houston we got bored. Dad doesn't have the same ability to keep us focused, and out of trouble that you do," Harper continues.

"We decided to go on a mission," Piper explains.

"Piper thought it would be helpful for us to tidy up the garage. We found ourselves climbing on shelves, and then into the attic of the garage."

"Where was your dad?" Sarah cocks an eyebrow.

"He was otherwise occupied. The ship does not sail as smoothly in your absence," Piper doesn't miss a beat.

Sarah throws her hands up, "What is it that you think I am trying to tell you?"

"We found your divorce decree," Harper cuts to the chase.

Mac falls silent, uncertain of her next move. Her daughters have always found a way to completely challenge her plans, from day one. Of all of the scenarios she has considered this was not one of them. She grins for a moment, realizing that nothing with them has gone the way she has expected from the day they were born.

"That is only half of the story, really," Piper shoots her identical twin a look.

"We also found a box labeled medical records," Harper continues wearing a look of guilt.

"I guess that you get in what you put out," Piper tries to soften the blow.

"Excuse me?" Mac arches an eyebrow.

"You wanted us to be smart, capable human beings. We are, and we have a reasonable understanding of basic biology. For example when one parent is A positive blood type, and the other is B negative they cannot have offspring with the blood type O positive," Harper elaborates.

"We know that he is not our biological father."

Mac stares at the girls in utter disbelief at the level of the maturity, understanding. She also feels the vein in her forehead pulsate, at least momentarily as she tries to reconcile herself with the fact that sometimes they act just like her.


	8. Chapter 8

She returns indoors feeling more confused than when she exited. In silence she pours herself a cup of coffee, and finds a seat on the kitchen counter. Her husband glances at her from the kitchen island.

"How did it go?"

"They already knew."

"Come again?"

"Harper, and Piper already knew. Apparently last year when I went out of town for a conference they decided to snoop in the attic of the garage."

He furrows his brow, "They're nine. Certainly they couldn't have used anything up there to…"

She cuts him off, "This is your fault."

"How is this my fault? You know that they are incorrigible. I do my best when you are not around, but as I seem to recall I am outnumbered."

"You were the one who encouraged me to stay home with them for the first year. As I recall you were also the one who felt guilty that they were going to have to go to some sort of day care, and stayed home with them for six months after that. They have you wrapped, and the little sponges have soaked up every single thing we have ever taught them."

"You're saying it is my fault that they are gifted?"

"They were fluent in three languages by age two."

"There is really no need to cast blame. We need to sit down and determine what our course of action is."

"They suggested that I just keep it to myself," she argues.

"You're just saying that, because it is what you want. We both know that you are not innocent in all of this."

"Nope, they actually suggested it. They want nothing to do with him. Do you think that is all my fault?"

He sees her begin her guilt-shame spiral.

"Sarah," his voice brings her back to reality.

She locks eyes with him, "Clayton…" she begins.

He cuts her off, "The only way to prevent yourself from falling down the rabbit hole is to talk to him. I know that the two of you lack the ability to effectively communicate with each other. I have seen it firsthand. I think that we both know that one of the reasons that you couldn't make your relationship work is because you couldn't communicate with each other. The fact of the matter is that the two of you have two concrete reasons that you need to communicate. I have my opinion, and you have yours. The girls they have their opinions too, but at the end of the day Harm gets a say too. He has legal rights. We agreed to cross the bridge when the time was right. I don't think we can avoid it any longer. You seeing him recently only solidified it. You have made your choices, and now you have to face them."

Their conversation is interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Sarah spins around.

"Piper how many times do we have to have the same conversation?"

"I thought that clearing my throat would be considered announcing my presence," she argues as if an expert litigator.

"Before you enter the room," Sarah, and Clayton say in unison.

"I thought you might want this," Piper holds out the colonel's phone.

Mac readily accepts the phone. "Thank you."

Piper turns to leave.

"Wait!" Mac calls after her.

Piper stops in front of her mother. She looks the colonel in the eye. Her piercing blue eyes search Mac's for answers. The nine year old stands just a few inches short of her mother's frame. Without another word Mac envelopes her in a hug. She is certain that she never wants to let go. She brushes her long dark locks out of her face. She presses her lips to her forehead.

"I love you."

"Love you to, mom. I can't breathe, can you let go, now?"

Mac releases her, "Sorry. It's just hard sometimes," she feels herself starting to choke up.

"Geez, mom, don't start. I am nine, not nineteen."

"You are just so grown up, and sometimes…" Mac internally chides herself for externally expresses so much vulnerability that she is nearly blubbering.

"I'll go play a board game if you let me go. I'll choose something really juvenile like Sorry!, or something."

"Please don't make your sister cry this time," Clayton warns.

"No promises," Piper responds as she races up the stairs.

* * *

As she sips her coffee she feels her palms sweating. She glances at her watch it is getting late. For a moment she considers leaving money on the table, and bolting out the door. She feels nauseated, as she considers the mission at hand. Her intrusive thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a bell dinging over the door. Her glance shifts, and she finds an old flame moving towards her. She rises to greet him out of habit, and respect of rank. He subtly shakes his head.

"I am sorry for the short notice," she apologizes.

"I am only in port until 0600. I have to say that I am surprised you called. Based on our last interaction I was convinced that you want nothing to do with me.

"That is true at least in part," she admits pointedly.

"I don't understand," he replies.

"I am sorry that came out far more harshly than I intended."

"Honesty often does. Why did you ask me to meet you here?"

"We can go somewhere else. I just figured that this was the closest thing to where you were," she reveals.

"It is. I have come here a few times before. It isn't five star, but as far as diner's go it isn't bad. They make a great cup of coffee."

As if on cue a waitress saunters over. He smiles politely as she offers him a cup. He nods graciously, and watches as the steam rolls of the elixir in his cup.

"Mac, what are we doing here?"

"You were right. We do have some things that we need to talk about."

"I'm listening."

"First I feel obligated to preface this by saying that this conversation is not going where you think it is. I have no interest in rekindling what we may have once had."

"I understand."

"I do hope that we can move forward as civilized human beings," she continues.

"Affirmative."

She furrows her brow, "I would not advise agreeing until you have heard all of the details that I need to discuss with you."

"Yes, counselor," he nods.


	9. Chapter 9

"First of all I want to put it out there that I am married. I am happily married, and I have been for a number of years," she explains.

"I didn't realize. You don't wear a ring. On the other hand that doesn't really surprise me. You always have tried to play things close to the vest."

"We do not publicize our marriage. Our private life is just that. We strive to keep our personal lives out of the arena of our careers. "

"Am I allowed to ask who the lucky guy is? Anyone I know?"

"That is classified," she grins, tauntingly.

His jaw clenches, and his eyes widen. He shakes his head, "The enemy? You married the enemy? You have got to be kidding me right now. You are just trying to get a rise out of me, aren't you? Clayton Webb?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny that."

He furrows his brow, "It is me you're talking to."

"My own assistant does not know the identity of my spouse."

"Why is it such a secret?"

She falls silent, and feels the lump forming in her throat.

"Who are you trying to protect? It isn't as if the two of you have children to protect."

She slides a wallet sized photo across the table. The photo is nearly five years old, but in transit she realizes that it was the only physical photo available. He shakes his head.

"Oh, I see. I…" he struggles to form an intelligible response. He searches her facial expression for an answer. She taps the photo lying in front of him with her index finger.

"Twins? I can see that."

"This picture was taken quite some time ago," she begins.

"They're beautiful. Look, I'm not really sure what the purpose of bringing me here was, but I think it is best that I go," he answers.

"I need you to hear me out. Please," she searches him with her imploring brown eyes.

"About what? You've moved on. You got everything that you wanted. You're happily married with two gorgeous kids. And…"

"The picture is nearly five years old, Harm."

"What difference does it make? You have obviously moved on. You are clearly happy."

"They're nine, now."

"I can't believe that you wouldn't tell me this the other day. You have a couple of nine year olds, and it just slipped your mind? I know that we didn't part on great terms, but I thought that… well I don't know what I thought."

"It was not an error of omission. It was straightforward deception," she admits.

"What are you talking about?"

"Their names are Piper, and Harper. They are nine years old," Mac reiterates.

"Why do you keep repeating that?"

"I am obviously failing to communicate. I birthed them."

He shakes his head, "Come again? I thought that wasn't within the realm of possibility. I guess that I just assumed otherwise."

"Miracles happen."

"What is the point of this meeting?"

"Their birthday was last week," she adds.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I should have told you all of this nine years ago. I should have done a lot of things differently, but I didn't. I made choices that were based on what I believed at the time. I made some selfish decisions, and I realize in retrospect the error of my ways."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

"Sometimes things that are beyond belief happen. The only thing that it can be chalked up to is a miracle. I did not instantaneously move on with my life, and proceed to undergo fertility treatments after the dissolution of our marriage."

"Good for you."

"Can you dial back the angry, bitter bit for one damn second? I need you to hear what I am telling you. Maybe it was a mistake to come here. I am beginning to think that I made the right decision the first time."

"What do you want from me? Why are we here? You're angry because I chose my career when you needed me most? You coped by jumping in the sheets, and getting knocked up the next guy you saw?"

She shakes her head, "Jealousy is not a good look on you. Not to mention it is entirely unwarranted."

"Unwarranted?" He grows louder.

"You are making a scene. Lower your voice. That isn't at all what happened. Not even close. Clayton wasn't even involved in their conception."

"So you married him after getting knocked up by some other guy?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Wow! I'm glad to hear that you bounced back so quickly after ending our marriage. I mean I know that you have had a tendency to bounce from one guy to another like a ping pong ball, but this is…"

"Would you shut up?! Please just let me explain. That isn't what happened at all!"

"So what then?"

"I didn't bounce around to anyone else. I was devastated."

"You wanted to end our marriage."

"It doesn't mean that it eliminated the pain."

"Obviously you weren't in too much pain. You hopped right back in the saddle."

"Stop! You are being despicable."

"I am being despicable? You are the one who dragged me out here. I never knew that you were so vindictive."

"They're yours!" She blurts out.

"What?!"

"That is why I brought you here. That is what I have been trying to tell you. I didn't hop back in any saddle. You are responsible for the other half of their genetic make-up."

"Excuse me?"

She once again points to the picture in front of him. She runs her fingers through her hair. The cadence of her voice changes after she exhales.

"By the time I had any inclination that they existed you were halfway around the world. Actually, quite honestly I only had inclination that one of them existed."

"What?"

"Nobody knew that there were two of them until they were delivered. Somehow Harper was overlooked on the initial scan. After that her position made it impossible to see her. She was lying along my spine."

"Back up," is all he can manage to get out.


	10. Chapter 10

He stares across the table at the one who got away. He takes a moment in silence to reflect on the past. Years passed have bestowed wisdom, and can see the err of his ways. He was never around, and when he was physically present his emotional unavailability was deafening. She stares back at him with her bright brown eyes. He sees all of the could-have-beens when he looks at her. Aside from a few age lines time hasn't changed her much. Worry is etched across her face. He inhales sharply, and attempts to process what she has just told him. Her excited utterance has caught him totally off guard. His brain can't seem to make sense of the information that she has presented him.

"I don't understand," he admits quietly.

"The day before the dissolution papers were filed you returned home to sign off on everything," she begins.

"I remember," he confirms.

"You came to pick up the last of your things, as well," she adds.

"Yes," he nods.

"You had just gotten off duty. You smelled like jet fuel, and sweat."

He grins, "It has been known to be a pretty irresistible signature scent."

"I suggested to you that you change clothes," she continues.

* * *

_He opens a box, and grabs out a change of clean clothes. She sits on the end of their bed emotionally drained. He knows that she desperately wants him to leave. He begins peeling off his uniform. He casts his dirty shirt into the box, and pulls off his undershirt. She rises from the bed. He arches an eyebrow uncertain of what she is doing. She stops inches from him. She inhales._

"_You need a shower," she points out. _

_He smiles flirtatiously, and his hand finds its way to the small of her back. He pulls her close._

"_Can I use yours?"_

_She smiles at his irresistible charm, "Yes, sailor."_

_He gently touches the button on her shirt. _

"_Are you going to join me?" _

* * *

She takes a sip of her coffee. Her face wears a sullen look. His hand rests on the table.

"When I woke up in the morning you were gone."

"We both know that you were never going to be persuaded to continued commitment to our marriage."

"I wouldn't have. You were always leaving."

"I am truly sorry for not being there when you needed me."

"It is in the past. Somethings, however follow us into the future. I didn't know it at the time, as there was no way for me to know, but you left something behind."

"Mac, what are you telling me?"

"A few months after you left I found out much to my surprise that I was in fact pregnant. Based on historical events you can say that I was less than thrilled. Quite frankly I was terrified. I decided not to call you up, and tell you the day that I found out because I figured that it was irrelevant. I thought that nothing would come to fruition, and it was bad enough to put one of through that again. After they were born I just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I sat in anticipation day, and night that something terrible would happen to one, or both of them. After a couple of months of that Clayton essentially had to tranquilize me one night to prevent me from sitting up, and watching them all night to make sure they didn't quit breathing. One day as they lie sleeping on my chest I realized how insanely happy I was. The amount of love that I have for them isn't something that I ever dreamed of. One day, and I'm not entirely sure when, it shifted from me being concerned that something would happen to them, and the unfathomable pain of someone coming in, and trying to take them from me."

He falls silent. From across the table she can't read his expression. She tries to discern if he is angry, or disappointed, maybe even relieved. Her heart begins to race as the silence envelopes them. She wrings her hands, as a force of habit. She takes a sip of her tepid coffee, for lack of anything better to do.

"I can understand all of that. I can empathize with it. Didn't you think that I had a right to know? Did you consider for a second that I should get to have a choice in this?"

"I was selfish."

"What is your expectation of this? Why after nine years would you even consider telling me?"

"It was the right thing to do."

"Now? I am leaving port first thing in the morning."

She shakes her head, "This is exactly why I didn't tell you," she responds in a calm, collected manner.

"Please, enlighten me."

"You are always leaving. Part of me was terrified that you would decide to be part of their lives only to disappoint them by never being present. The other part of me was petrified you would fight for them tooth and nail and take them away from me. I am fully aware that no amount of apologizing will make up for the time that has been lost. My choices were not just to any of the parties involved. I am not asking for anything from you. You can proceed in any way you see fit."

"I don't have an answer for you right now. I need some time to…" Harm trails off.

"I understand. This is a lot of information to take in. Take all of the time that you need."

His eyes wander to the picture lying on the surface of the sticky diner table. "Can I keep this?"

She nods, "Of course."


	11. Chapter 11

Her husband awaits her arrival. He hears the garage door open, and meets her at the entrance to the house. He finds her standing in front of him with a tear stained face. He wraps his arms around her.

"Why do you let him do this to you? Every damn time?"

She shrugs, "It's not him. He didn't make any decision. It's just the thought of any force trying to take them away from me."

"We have talked about this scenario. It doesn't change anything. We will proceed with business as usual unless, and until something changes."

"What did I ever do to deserve you? What happened to the callous prick I used to know?"

He smiles, "One day I was sitting in a doctor's office, and I heard this tiny, amazing heartbeat, and everything changed. I had never seen you so vulnerable, and I had never been more impressed with your strength. It was in that moment that I decided that I would do whatever it took to go the distance with you, even if you never reciprocated."

"They are pretty amazing," she replies.

He tucks a stray clump of hair behind her ear, "They get that from their mother. When did you decide that you would give me the opportunity to win you over?"

"I just needed someone in my corner. It happened before I ever consciously made the decision," she admits.

"It wasn't a conscious decision? You are so deliberate. I am shocked."

"I remember it to the day," she discloses.

"Do tell."

"You were lying there next to me, trying to get me to sleep. You held me, and tried to comfort me. There I was, seventy eight months pregnant with someone else's babies, and there you were. You held me so I could get some sleep. It was then, as I was drifting off to sleep that I realized that you had changed. In that very instant I came to the conclusion that I couldn't imagine going through that with anyone else."

"Our girls are the most incredible blessing."

"We would certainly be in a very different place without them."

"Sarah, we should get some rest."

Before she can respond she hears a small voice calling for her, "Mommy?"

She turns around and finds a brown eyed boy staring back at her, wearing a pair of dinosaur pajamas. His sandy hair is thick, wavy, and wild from lying on his pillow. He is the spitting image of Clayton, except for the fact that he has his mother's big brown eyes.

"Sir, what are you doing out of bed?" She inquires, as she squats down to his level.

"I was sound asleep, and all of a sudden I woke up, and started thinking about the jungle. There were dinosaurs everywhere, and I knew only a real Marine could help me," he explains.

"Did daddy let you watch _Jurassic Park_ before bed?"

"Only for a little while. The twins found us, and stole my tablet. Mommy, sometimes they are just so… rude! Piper is mean."

"I think that she is just trying to look out for the two of you wayward men."

He puts his hand on her cheek. "Are you upset with me, mommy? I know it's real late."

She scoops him up off the floor, and snuggles him close. She kisses his cheek. "I'll let it slide if you let me snuggle you back to sleep."

"Colonel, you're in charge here. I just follow orders, ma'am," he grins devilishly.

"Colten Matthew Webb, you are incorrigible," Clayton warns.

The four year old wraps his arms around Sarah. As they move towards the stairs he sticks his tongue out at Clayton.

"That's what she says about you," he giggles.

"Shh!" Mac warns the precocious little guy.

"I love you, mommy."

A few moments later she pushes open the door to his room. She gently places him into a twin bed with dinosaur sheets, and a Star Wars blanket. She flips on his nightlight, and climbs into the bed next to him.

"I see that daddy forgot about the lightsabers."

"Mommy, he always forgets. Piper usually remembers, but she fell asleep early. He doesn't understand that the lightsabers have to be on to keep the dinosaurs, and gigantic spiders out of here."

"You have a wild imagination."

"Uh huh," he agrees as his eyes start to flutter closed.

She wraps her arms around him, and breathes in the scent of a mischievous male variety miracle. He smells of Mr. Bubble, and a hint of his dad's after shave. She falls asleep with him lying on her chest, drooling on her shoulder.


End file.
